Searching for things yet unknown, I remain suspended in parallel worlds. I am a pregnant pause, never the birth. Existing in the mystery between presence and absence, I am a trace element of time’s passing. Ancestors beckon with the promise of rest, whispering only clues to long-buried truths. I want to find the things they say have been lost. So I journey, following the mirage of reclamation. They are there, you see? In the distance, they await my arrival. I must return to them.